<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sacrifice by ruruie</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992642">Sacrifice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruie/pseuds/ruruie'>ruruie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death, F/M, Loss, and how Johnny plans to honor her, did i cry writing this?, this is just real sad shit about V's death, yes - yes I did</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:15:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruie/pseuds/ruruie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Doing this felt too real. Like the moment he purchased those niches it would be final. That there would be no going back. Rogue’s was bought first. Her death seemed more tangible, really. He came to peace with it so much quicker. She lived a full life – did all she ever wanted and more. The second niche was purchased, and Johnny had a hard time with that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Johnny Silverhand/Female V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beammeupbroadway/gifts">Beammeupbroadway</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a work inspired by convos with the lovely <a>beammeupbroadway</a>, who is an absolute dear!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Each morning when he woke up he expected to be angry; to stare up at that ceiling fan and expect to hate the world. Johnny had every reason to hate the world in which he woke up in, and he could count on one hand with fingers to spare everything that made him happy now. But, when he rolled out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor, he didn’t feel anger. For a while, he didn’t feel anything. </p><p>Now all he felt was remorse. </p><p>The hands that rubbed the tired face were not his own. When he stood, the legs that carried him to the bathroom didn’t belong to him. The tattoos, the hair, the eyes that looked back at him were all someone else entirely. He’s man enough to admit that the first few days of his new life were spent crying over a bottle, so distraught each time a sob tore through him because he didn’t hear his own voice. In some weird feedback loop, his brain placed his own voice over it, but it was never the same. </p><p>If he looked at the mirror for too long he’d feel the tears well up again, so much more liable to cry now than he was before. Changes made to this body could only do but so much to affect its chemical makeup, the damn hormones he always complained about making him so much more emotional. To feel in its entirety was so new, and it was all thanks to her.</p><p>What was the point in all this?</p><p>He was told that it was to give him a second chance at life, like he wasn’t given one already when his engram was slotted inside her. What lesson was imparted on him when she told him to leave her behind? All he got from it was the dark sting of betrayal and hurt for so long, turning into a sorrowful realization that his new life felt so empty. Rogue was gone, and it was all his fault. Should’ve kept her from Smasher, but now he had two more bodies to his count. How could he ever explain to Kerry what had happened? Those two had grown so close in such a short amount of time, and Johnny was no longer the rockerboy he once knew, effectively killing off two friends. Not to mention Johnny was missing the most important thing in the whole world.</p><p>“One day I’ll figure out whatever the fuck you wanted me to do with this life.” </p><p>He had to stop talking to her. She wasn’t there anymore. No longer could he appear beside her each day, act like he wasn’t so greatly indebted for all that she had done for him, while caring for her in a way no one else really had. When they learned they could touch, hold one another, she’d fall asleep on his chest, telling him how much he meant to her. He’d whisper it back, but only once she had gone to sleep. He never understood what it meant to live with such heavy regret, but now he did. All the things he should have said to her, but never did, hung on his tongue, never to be spoken again, for she could not hear them. </p><p>Hope was all he had – hoping that by the end she knew how much he loved her. </p><p>It wasn’t until he met the kid from a few doors down, Steve, that he understood some of what he should be doing with his new life. The kid was the definition of troubled; bad home and a desire to take it out on the world. Johnny decided to impart some wisdom on the kid, help him as best he could. He thinks she would have done the same. Would want him to do the same. </p><p>Sitting there with the kid, he corrected him on his form, making sure he was holding the guitar correctly, strumming the right cords. Of course, he had his own thoughts on how a person developed their own style of playing, but this kid needed technique first. At least the kid had the drive to do it. </p><p>“Hey, why do you always wear those two things around your neck. Never seen you without ‘em. They mean somethin’?” </p><p>“Nah, just some mementos. Nothin’ important.” </p><p>The mere mention of the tags and bullet made Johnny question everything that happened in the Net. He should have fought her, pushed her into that well, gone off into the Blackwall with her – something, anything. Not the resolute obedience that led him to lying down on the bed each night, watching the fan spin around and around, knowing well he would only sleep a few hours before waking, unable to allow himself rest. Those nights when sleep would never take him, he’d hold the tags in his hand, clutching them like they would somehow bring her back. Conjure up her image, having a good laugh over the state he was in before picking him like he did her. </p><p>He didn’t know how long he had been in her body, but one morning he decided he should move on. Leave Night City behind and find somewhere else to live. Johnny had always wanted to go North, find more temperate weather. She’d like it there. In their off moments, she would hope for rain and cooler weather, and when she was graced with them she would sit by the window, listening to the drops. </p><p>Steve was a good kid. He’d find his way in the world somehow. A guitar purchased, to remind him to keep pursuing his passion. At the end of this day, when Johnny boarded that bus to head out of town, he’d leave it in the back of this shit car, making sure that Steve didn’t have a choice but to take it. </p><p>“Can I come with?” Sweet kid, truly. </p><p>“No, wait here, okay? Won’t be long.” </p><p>Doing this felt too real. Like the moment he purchased those niches it would be final. That there would be no going back. Rogue’s was bought first. Her death seemed more tangible, really. He came to peace with it so much quicker. She lived a full life – did all she ever wanted and more. The second niche was purchased, and Johnny had a hard time with that. </p><p>Walking back, he passed by two niches on the way to the ones he just bought. Fingers tracing the words, he chuckled darkly, the noise so strange from another’s throat. “Meant what I said before I jacked into the Net. I’m sorry. Learned that...I shoulda been better. Did a lot different this second time around. What good that did in the end, huh? Karma’s a bitch, right? Always told me that.” Glancing at the niche beside Alt’s, he wished he could smash it into pieces, so upset at whoever bought it for him. Upset that, at the end of the day, he wasn’t interned there. </p><p>Goodbyes said to Rogue, a last reminder that she was always the best. Would always be the best. Her gun was placed in her niche, and felt the box close in slow motion, knowing his next move was to turn around. One final moment at Rogue’s place of rest, and willed those legs that did not belong to him to face their owner.<br/>
“Aah, V...” </p><p>Hand waved in front of the niche, it opened, Johnny pulling the tags from his neck. Her neck. It really was all still her. By the end of their journey, her soul, her mind, felt like home. To exist with her would be the world’s finest pleasure, and he would have given anything for that to happen. But, there are no happy endings in Night City, and he knew that. Knew that the moment she looked him in the eyes and told him that she trusted him to take her body to the finish line. </p><p>V was his everything, and now he had to bury her. For him, there would be no true final goodbye, no way to close this chapter, for no body would be buried here. Only her soul, and that hurt worse than anything. </p><p>“You asked me, indirectly of course ‘cause that’s how you were, if people had souls. I’m hopin’ that what we did in the Net didn’t kill yours, V. Somethin’ tells me it didn’t. Someone like you could never be truly removed from this world.” </p><p>Lips pressed to the tags, she used to do the same before big jobs. Told him that it gave her good luck, even though he seriously doubted that. Kissed them before taking the pills for their journey to Mikoshi, and nothing good came from that. These tags were not a charm, but a curse. The cold metal on his lips made him try to remember what hers felt like against his as they shared one final kiss before he left, so full of all the things they would ever leave unsaid. </p><p>Tags placed in the niche, there was yet another person who sacrificed their life for him. This time he was determined to make the people he left behind proud. To hope that when he finally exited this world for good he would meet V, her arms open, and they would share stories of a lifetime one more time. </p><p>The Dreamer. That’s what she was – what she always will be.</p><p>Boarding that bus, he took one final look at the Columbarium, gaze interrupted by Steve reminding him to take the guitar. A parting gift for the kid. The bus took off, leaving Johnny with his thoughts. Everything he ever loved was behind him now. Looking at V’s hands he reached up and grabbed the bullet around his neck, thumb tracing over it.</p><p>“I’ll miss you...Thank you for everything, my love.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My partner heard my sniffling in the room and he just knew I was writing sad Johnny content. Felt it in his soul</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>